


It's Woven In My Soul

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e19 Hammer of the Gods, Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Sabriel - Freeform, Sam is a sadsack, Songfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens after Gabriel 'dies'. He's with Sam when he takes the plunge into the Cage.<br/>Song is 'Demons' by Imagine Dragons from Night Visions.<br/>Not Beta Read</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Woven In My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> written for owlyjules who is also maplevogel on Tumblr who is my fandom partner in crime as well as an amazing artist. Go check her out.  
> Not Beta Read

oOo  
When the days are cold  
And the cards all fold  
And the saints we see  
Are all made of gold  
oOo  
Done and dusted.

Sam turned the phrase over in his mind as he looked down at the charred outline of an archangel’s wings. Of course, it was not the one they were gunning for, the one that truly mattered and end the Apocalypse. Not that the one at his feet didn’t matter. He had been important to at least one human. Sam stared down at Gabriel’s husk, trying to understand how something so humble could have contained the glory and majesty of an archangel, and all Sam could think of was that stupid phrase. He didn’t even know where he had heard it.  
oOo  
When your dreams all fail  
And the ones we hail  
Are the worst of all  
And the blood’s run stale  
oOo  
They had returned to find Elysian Fields back to what they could only assume had been its original state, dilapidated and decaying down to its foundations. None of the surviving pagan gods had even bothered to move or cover up the body, had just left Gabriel out to rot in the open air like garage, used up and forgotten now that Lucifer was gone. To Sam, it seemed beyond sacrilegious. It wasn’t right on so many different levels but when was the last time anything had been right? It was surreal, beyond tragic, and so fucking unfair like everything else in Sam’s impossible life, but in the entirety of that, Sam had believed down to his core that Gabriel wasn’t meant to die, wasn’t supposed to die……couldn’t die. Death was for other beings, not the Trickster, not Loki, not the Messenger of God. 

But Gabriel was dead and in the glaring light of harsh reality, it was up to Dean and him to bury what was left. A hunter’s humble salt and burn funeral didn’t seem adequate enough by far, ridiculous even. Nothing would though. Yeah, Gabriel had been a liar, a coward, a pompous ass, and a whole lot of other unsavory things that one would usually never equate to an angel, much less an archangel, but damn it, he had lived and lived life to its fullest. He had experienced, and experimented, and loved more than anyone or anything Sam had run across, far better than even most humans who were born into it. A near infinite being with a flair for life in all its aspects, no matter how humbling they might seem to be. 

Like twinkies. Stupid bright yellow twinkies with enough preservatives to keep them edible until doomsday and not one natural ingredient in their composition and Gabriel had loved the stupid things and now he was dead and Sam would never be able to look at another stupid yellow and blue package of them without thinking about Gabriel and fuck it all to hell and back again, it was going to hurt deep each and every time.

Done and dusted. 

Instead of enjoying craptastic snack cakes, his vessel was rotting into the frayed motel carpeting and all because he had met Sam. No, in all fairness, a lot of people had met Sam but this time, Sam had been stupid enough to let himself care for someone else because it had seemed safe to do so. Anyone and everyone he loved died horribly, Sam was just that cursed and deep down he knew this. The sooner he accepted it though, the better it would be for everyone. He was the Devil’s vessel through and through, and no one was safe from his love. Apparently, not even an archangel.   
oOo  
I wanna hide the truth  
I wanna shelter you  
But with the beast inside  
There’s nowhere we can hide  
oOo  
Sam sighed, feeling just a little more hollow and yet heavier at the same time, like his insides were being scraped out of him while his skin turned to lead. He was wearing his very own Sam suit, a puppet made of thick meat as a new weight settled on his broad shoulders, heavier than guilt and more pressing that sorrow. The load of everything that he had done and what he was had been easier to bear with Gabriel around. The Trickster turned archangel had been his very own unexpected source of salvation hidden under the guise of a distraction at best and a death threat at worst. Now he was gone and Sam was done, his heart turning to dust. 

It was really only a matter of time until the end of all things.   
oOo  
No matter what we breed  
We still are made of greed  
This is my kingdom come  
This is my kingdom come  
oOo

Dying, death, or as the poet Dean Winchester would say ‘getting ganked’ had hurt. He had put a lot of himself into that one. He had to though. It had to make it look, feel, smell, hell even taste real enough to fool Lucifer, his grand finale. It had even felt real to him and that was saying something. 

Weary and wandering now, Gabriel’s grace or what was left of it, a mere shadow of celestial wavelength adhered itself to the man standing over his vessel, staring down at it like it was going to give him the lottery numbers or something. Chuckling to himself cause he was a riot even while still mostly dearly departed, the archangel settled on and in Sam’s back, bonding somewhere past the cellular level with a vessel meant for his brother but an angel’s port in the storm to this reality none the less. 

Letting out some relief, Gabriel settled in. He could rest here until his Grace recovered enough. His true vessel would be fine because being a pagan god as a second job had its perks. Oh the things you met in that kind of work, Gaia being one of those thing and an absolute sweetheart when it came to making copies of his vessel. Not that Gaia minded much, she liked perfecting her creations, evolving them whenever she could. The spirit of the Earth had made his original after all and he was still well within her good graces to keep up production though she firmly refused to make him taller. 

Out of the two prime choices of the highest order of vessel real estate, Sam was the only real choice. Castiel, that sneaky little angel of a seraph, had left his mark on Dean, hence why Michael was having a hell of a time of it with the older Winchester. Gabriel couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride toward the younger angel for doing something so audacious, forming a bond so deep with another’s intended. That kind of stunt was right up there with stolen daughters of the seasons and pomegranate seeds. Those two were so intertwined now in grace and soul, it was ridiculous and Heaven was so willingly blind to the obvious. About as much as Dean and Castiel were to each other. Profound bond his ass. That was the gross understatement of the Apocalypse. 

No, it had to be Sam but then it always was. The man was the living embodiment of ‘good intentions and all that…’, but that is also what made Sam so damn alluring too. He wanted to be good so badly it was charmingly sweet rather than pathetic. The devil’s doll praying for everyone else’s salvation except for his own. 

Even now when his misery and guilt was tangible thing, a seething mass that covered him from tip to toe in its slick sickness, coating him through and through. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed for Gabriel to lie in but it was better than being discovered while still so fractured and weak. He needed a pit stop and Sam was the last exit between oblivion, infinity, and all sorts of real dead.

Too tired, too spent, too everything to do anything for Sam much less himself, Gabriel did the one thing he could do. It was the rules of the road after all, and if he was going to hitchhike his way back to some semblance of living, he had to give something back. The holy trinity of payback- ass, gas, or grass- didn’t really cover esoteric and metaphysical traveling though he was willing to give one of the three a go once he had his meat suit back. Out of options, energy, or anything of value. Gabriel, archangel of the Lord and messenger of God, did the only thing he could. He hummed one of the melodies of creation to soothe the human’s weary mind. 

It was the very least he could do.  
oOo  
When you feel my heat  
Look into my eyes  
It’s where my demons hide  
It’s where my demons hide  
Don’t get too close  
It’s dark inside  
It’s where my demons hide  
It’s where my demons hide  
oOo  
“What the hell do you keep whistling?” Dean snapped. Sam stopped doing just that, having not realized that he had even pursed his lips together to do so.

“Dunno.” Sam shrugged. “Just something that keeps running through my head I guess.”

“Could you not? It’s driving me crazy trying to figure out where I’ve heard and if you’re not going to tell me, knock it off.” Dean muttered tiredly. It was a normal tone of voice for him. That was all Dean sounded lately. Tired. Defeated.

“Done and dusted.” Lucifer whispered in the back of Sam’s head in a soft sweet croon that only the Devil could produced. Something achingly soothing that still promised seven kinds of sin and murders at the end of it. The one that promised Sam the world while still threatening to end it all in one go. Feeling nauseous, Sam pressed his forehead to the glass, letting the coolness of it seep into his skin as he prayed to forget. He curled up in the seat as much as he could manage, trying futilely to get comfortable while the Devil laughed at him in his own head. Sam’s back hurt and his shoulder were heavy, but that was normal. They did have the weight of the world on them after all.   
oOo  
When the curtain’s call  
Is the last of all  
When the lights fade out  
All the sinners crawl  
oOo  
Gabriel carved himself a notch of space within Sam without the hunter noticing. In all fairness to Sam though, the impending Apocalypse and dealing with the fallout of the Four Horsemen was sort of distracting so he could he forgiven for missing the minor details of picking up a hitchhiking archangel. That and Gabriel was damn good at what he did. It came with what he was and not even the pagan god aspect of his being. As the messenger of God, it had been designed into Gabriel the talent for knowing the hidden ways, the secret paths, the shadowed backdoors, and all the other cracks in the wall and reality that let things slip through them unnoticed. 

Speed and flexibility to adapt to situations were another inborn set of gifts. Things and destinations in creation were so rarely from point A to point B. Sometimes one had to take the long way of point Q, bounce off of point I, and wing it past points R, S, and T in a tail spin to get to the shorter outcome. 

In this case, Gabriel’s grace sought out the chinks in Sam’s body and soul of which there were many and filled them in with his own ethereal spackle, making the damned vessel Gabriel’s very own hearth and home, at least his back area, the lovely little spot of tanned flesh right between Sam‘s shoulder blades. Gabriel couldn’t risk being discovered so he kept contact with that small point of the hunter’s body perched upon it, like a mountain balancing on the head of a pin. 

So Gabriel insolated and isolated himself with Sam, hiding from all of creation and more on the hunter’s back, rooting himself into Sam’s skin. It was like a piggyback ride of life support, but one that kept him a captive audience to all of the Winchester’s mishaps and mistakes, because damn, those boys could be thick as brick sometimes. 

If Gabriel had hands, he would have spent a good amount covering his eyes and ears. That or face palming.   
oOo  
So they dug your grave  
And the masquerade  
Will come calling out  
At the mess you've made  
oOo  
It was a stupid idea. Say ‘yes’ to the Devil and when it came down to brass tacks, wrestle the wheel away from Lucifer in time to drive that crazy bus straight into the cage. Yeah, totally sound and utterly foolproof, just like every other Winchester plan. It was doomed from conception and sadly, depressingly so, it was the best one they had. 

Even though he was pretty damn sure no one was listening or gave two craps about him, Sam kept praying. He felt like a broken record while he did it but he stuck to it. Can’t win if you don’t play, he supposed and he had nothing left to lose. His life was forfeit as it was. Sam already knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one alive, had come to accept that even if Dean refused to. 

Everyone kept telling Dean that he had no faith. Sam snorted in disbelief at the thought. If keeping him alive were a religion, Dean would be pope. For someone who didn’t believe in anything, Dean sure had a lot of faith in Sam even if it was bent all out of shape and twisted. Or maybe it was just brotherly love so devoted that it blinded him. Whatever the case may be, Sam felt he didn’t deserve it. 

“Dean is like a dog.” Lucifer whispered dulcet sweet and low. “ A good, ole hound dog that you and your Daddy kept to kick around. He’ll be loyal till the day you kill him, won’t he Sammy? No matter how many times you ruin and render him beforehand.”

“Shut up.” Sam said through clenched teeth, curling his hands into fists at his sides though the words rang with truth, the kind only the Devil could give. That was the problem with Lucifer phoning it in to his head. It wasn’t that he lied out right. It was that he found the truth of a matter, and would dress it up and out to his benefit. 

“I’m even willing to bet that once I take you over, he won’t let Michael near him with a ten foot pole with someone else’s meat suit attached cause the Sword of God won’t hesitate. Dean won’t let Michael kill his little Sammy.” Sam could hear Lucifer’s smirk, smugness coating each and every word. The terrible thing about it was that Sam knew that he was right. It was one of the reasons Dean had tried to say ‘yes’ first. Winchesters could be very honest with themselves when they wanted to be. “And that’s why I am going to win.”

God help them all, Sam lapsed in prayer again to the ringing sounds of the Devil’s laughter. 

“Thou dost behold the Glory of God in heaven, and bring grace from on high to earth. O wise Gabriel, leader of angels, minister of God’s glory, and champion of the world. Save and preserve those who cry to thee: Be our helper, and no one will be against us.”  
oOo  
Don’t want to let you down  
But I am hell bound  
Though this is all for you  
Don’t want to hide the truth  
oOo

It amazed Gabriel that Sam prayed. Not only prayed, but often and well. Quantity doesn’t mean quality but damn, Sam was the exception to this. Gabriel hadn’t even met saints who had prayed as fervently or as often as Sam did. It made it all the more sad when it came down to it that Sam was Lucifer’s vessel. It was a raw dog deal in Gabriel’s opinion to be cursed even before birth to be an angel condom. He had to give the guy kudos though for trying to resist fate and destiny. When those two worked hand and in hand, you might as well just throw in the towel, lay back, and let it happen, but not Sam. He took hit after hit and just kept going. 

What amazed Gabriel even more was that Sam prayed to him. Even after all that he had personally done to the hunter and all that Sam had seen and been through, Sam still gave his everything to those words. Normally he could tune out prayers directed his way, but this up close and personal and bonded to Sam, it was impossible to ignore. 

It was a thing of wonder and beauty to experience though, healing the shattering of his Grace from a source of faith and devotion that should have never existed or been able to maintain this long. It had all the chilling surrealism of finding roses on moon, the starkness of crimson upon silver.  
oOo  
No matter what we breed  
We still are made of greed  
This is my kingdom come  
This is my kingdom come  
oOo  
Sam was fallen and falling, but with a smile on his face as he heard Lucifer scream repeatedly without end in and out of his head. They were all their way to the Pit, the final destination to their descent the Cage with Michael in tow wearing Adam.

“Done and dusted.” Sam whispered back to the Devil, loving how the words sweetened with revenge and some spice of irony tasted on his tongue. The saying had lived there on the tip of it and on the edge of his thoughts for so long now, all he could do was laugh. He was going to Hell laughing as Lucifer screamed in fear and rage, and an angel’s fear was a terrifyingly, beautiful thing to behold, much less experience. Panicking and desperate, Lucifer was trying to tear his way out of Sam’s body in a vain attempt to escape. From the looks of it, Michael was trying to do the same thing to Adam, but the pull of the Cage was too great even for them as the angel burst out of their meat suits in starbursts of light and sound and divine purpose.

It didn’t help matters that they kept trying to kill one another every few microseconds. Sam reflected in the spaces in between that if they worked together that they might be able to escape this. The Cage was only meant for Lucifer, to contain him. Millennia of suppressed and repressed emotions, conditioning, baggage, and grudges made it impossible though. Lucifer and Michael may have liked to believe that they had been kings on the chessboard of the universe but in actuality, they were and had always been pawns.

Sam told them all as much, feeling relieved about it, like a lifetime of burdens had been lifted from him. It was all over and he was going to Hell. He wasn’t alone though, even had some family with him. They were all going to Hell together.

Wasn’t life grand.  
oOo  
They say it's what you make  
I say it's up to fate  
It's woven in my soul  
I need to let you go  
oOo  
And then something unexpected happened.

Plummeting, Sam had been in-between two ethereal beings after they erupted from their respective vessels, mocking them and laughing as they seemed intent on destroying each other and then he was not. In all fairness, Lucifer and Michael seemed just as surprised as Sam about it as the human suddenly shot upward like a spontaneous comet on three pairs of golden wings, the likes of which were unmatched this side of heaven or hell. 

Being a messenger was all about speed after all and when you work for someone who didn’t create the concept of patience right from the start of …..well…..everything, fast doesn’t even begin to describe the types of speed that that kind of messenger can achieve. Faster than anything in or above creation, even as an archangel, Gabriel was in a class of his very own. He could go anywhere, anytime, anyplace. Move through, in, on, above, or within any place, space, universe, or reality with ease because he was meant to.

Even the Cage.  
oOo   
Your eyes, they shine so bright  
I want to save that light  
I can't escape this now  
Unless you show me how  
oOo  
Sam was given no time to dwell on the turn of events, those wings shooting him up, up, up, and through barriers of reality that were snapping in on them in an attempt to seal up the rift. Layers of the unseen worlds that humans were not meant to pass through, much less shatter as Sam shot through them with the ease of a bullet through panes of glass.

The Cage lunged forward like the beast it was, snapping up its meal with gluttonous zeal and Sam returned to Earth, unconscious and unaware as he carried skyward on the shining wings of an archangel.  
oOo  
When you feel my heat  
Look into my eyes  
It’s where my demons hide  
It’s where my demons hide  
Don’t get too close  
It’s dark inside  
It’s where my demons hide  
It’s where my demons hide  
oOo  
Coming to, Sam woke up to moisture clinging to his face. It usually would have been sweat, Winchesters had more than their fair share of nightmares after all. So Sam was quite surprised when he opened his eyes to find out that it was actually the residual of clouds he was passing through as he glided on light wing. He was flying high above everything, the world beneath him still very much there, more or less intact, glittering blue and green and whole. 

Saved.

Risking a look over his shoulder, Sam found that yes he had three pairs of wings stretched out behind them, so large and wide they formed their own shimmering multiple horizons, working in strange tandem with one another. 

The more rational parts of his brain wondering why he wasn’t cold or frozen, or how he was able to breathe with so little atmosphere. Second and even third thoughts really hoped that he didn’t run into any air traffic. It would kind of suck to save the world, and then kill a migrating bird or smack into the side of a plane.

“What the hell?” Sam helplessly asked the empty spaces all around him.

“Nope but you have two guesses left.” said a voice impossibly in answer. It was unfamiliar and yet family all at once to Sam. He would recognize it anywhere but he couldn’t let himself even begin to hope. It was impossible and Sam was so damn tired of being let down, but considering that was he currently sky high and not Hell deep under, perhaps he could risk it. His life, his existence, was all about believing in impossible things.

“Gabriel?”

“That’s what they call me.”  
oOo  
This is my kingdom come

This is my kingdom come  
oOo

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and if you leave a comment, thank you for that as well.


End file.
